


Hero

by silverpen



Category: Ghostbusters (2016), Wonder Woman (2017), Wonder Woman (Comics), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 22:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13890570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverpen/pseuds/silverpen
Summary: “It’s not about deserve; it’s about what you believe. And I believe in love.”-Princess Diana of Themyscira“And to me the purpose of life is to love, and to love is what you have shown me.”-Dr. Jillian Holtzmann, Ph.D.Sometimes meeting your heroes is a good thing. (Inspired by the SNL skit. You know the one.)





	Hero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notgottaname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notgottaname/gifts).



1992

Holtzmann (still Jillian at this point) lay on her stomach in her bedroom, torso hidden under the bed and legs exposed, heels kicking rhythmically against the bed frame. She had five pieces of shiny metal jewelry arranged in front of her: aluminum, copper, gold, silver, and iron. Next to this line-up was an open comic book. 

She looked at the jewelry, and then at the comic book. Then back to the jewelry. Back to the book. Jewelry. Book. 

Jewelry. 

Book.

Jewelry.

She reached into the back pocket of her too-big purple overalls and pulled out a tiny notepad and a tiny pencil. She flipped to a clean page and scribbled  _PERLIMINERY TESTS_ in big letters at the top of the page. Then, biting her lip in concentration, she wrote: 

_Amazonium is not on the periodic table. The Amazons probly have diferent names for the elaments. I think amazonium is actualy copper or iron. Or maybe it is an alloy made out of copper AND iron. Alloys are stronger so that would be good because Wonder Woman’s bracelits stop bullets so they have to be strong._

She stuffed the notepad back in her pants pocket and then picked up the rings and brooches to return them to her mother’s jewelry box. 

* * *

2001

Holtzmann stood in the vice principal’s office watching the news on the television in the corner. It was muted.

"Crop tops are a violation of the dress code," said the vice principal, sounding tired, "but you know that. This is the second time this month."

Holtzmann ignored him. On the screen a grainy figure sped across the sky.

"Jillian, are you listening to me? You have to call your parents to bring you a change of clothes."

The footage ended, replaced by a news anchor and a scrolling banner at the bottom that read "Who Is the Wonder Woman?"

"Jillian," repeated the vice principal. Holtzmann dragged her eyes from the TV to the bridge of his nose, her favorite place to stare so as to give the appearance of eye contact without having to subject herself to the real thing.

"All that stuff is faked, you know," the vice principal said, his voice a little softer.

"No," said Holtzmann. "Wonder Woman is real."

"People claimed to see her in World War II," the vice principal said. "She wouldn't look the same after _sixty years_."

Holtzmann crossed her arms, and the crop top rose yet another forbidden inch. "Wonder Woman is real," she said, and turned to leave.

"You have to call—" the vice principal started.

"I have a t-shirt in my locker," said Holtzmann. She shut the door behind her a little harder than necessary.

* * *

2008

Holtzmann was climbing the steps to the roof of the nuclear engineering building, trying very hard not cry before she made it to the top. In her left hand she clutched a brass-colored contraption that she might never get to test properly. None of the other students in her department were interested in her paranormal projects, and without a partner, she wouldn’t be allowed to do her thesis. 

But that wasn’t why she was not-crying. Tonight the engineering department was holding a "mixer" for the masters and doctoral students. Holtzmann hated most parties—most other people’s idea of a party, at least—but this was a required party, so she came. 

And she had spotted Jasmine, a Ph.D. student with a beautiful face and beautiful theories about radiation. Holtzmann made her way to Jasmine’s table, new device in hand—because who doesn’t bring the science along to a science party?—and said hello. No one at the table recognized her, but she shook it off.

"What’s that?" Jasmine asked, pointing to Holtzmann's invention.

Holtzmann grinned. "Glad you asked. I call it the Opacityzer. Spelled with a Y just for fun." She brandished the device over her head. It was about the size and shape of a remote, aside from the blades spinning rapidly on both sides like miniature helicopter rotors. 

"It scatters light around transparent entities, making them visible," Holtzmann continued. "It receives wireless updates from my new lenses"—she gestured at her newest pair of yellow goggles, which were perched on her forehead—"which I’ve optimized to calculate the entities’ refractive indices. If those puppies ping above 85 percent transparent my goggles send their exact location to the Opacityzer and … well, you know the rest."

After that, three things happened: 

  1. Jasmine and her friends neither knew nor wanted to know the rest;
  2. Holtzmann heard a classmate across the room call her "the crazy lesbian ghost hunter"; and
  3. when she tried to slip away, one of her professors told her that if she wasn’t going to try harder to be part of the team, maybe she didn’t belong on it at all.



She didn’t want to let it bother her.

It bothered her anyway. 

Which brought her to the top of the stairwell, pushing open the door and stepping onto the empty roof. It was windy and cold, but that was a relief after the stifling environment downstairs. The weather was also an excellent cover for crying. She sniffed self-indulgently as she sat down near the edge.

And then she dropped the Opacityzer.

She didn’t mean to drop it, but she also hadn’t expected the blades to start making whirring noises and all the lights to turn on at the same time. She caught it just before it rolled off the roof and plummeted to the sidewalk five stories down. The Opacityzer was activated, which meant … a ghost? Could it be?

Holtzmann pulled her wireless-enabled goggles down over her eyes, got to her feet and turned around, and almost dropped the device again. The empty roof was not empty at all. 

In front of her was a small jet plane. It registered 100% transparency on her goggles, which shouldn’t have been possible. Holtzmann took a step toward the plane.

The Opacityzer was working very hard to bring the entire thing into view. It flickered on and off in front of her, invisible one moment and a complete ROY G. BIV the next. (She had engineered the Opacityzer to make all objects not only opaque, but opaque in rainbow colors.)

"Hi, ghost plane," Holtzmann whispered. The plane did not answer, but she was close enough to touch it now, so she did. 

Holtzmann made a point of touching, smelling, and/or licking as many nonlethal substances as possible, but she had never felt a material like this. It was both cool and warm to the touch, hard and soft, smooth and sharp. She had no idea what it was. It was probably highly dangerous.

She was over the party. This was the best day ever. 

Then there was a slight gust of wind and the sound of something landing softly behind her, and a voice said, "Can you see my plane?"

Holtzmann did her second 180-degree spin of the evening and found herself facing a woman so tall that it took Holtzmann a few beats to work her eyes up to her face. She had tan skin, dark brown hair, and features that were both hard and soft, much like the jet plane. That is, Wonder Woman. It was fucking Wonder Woman.

She was wearing red, gold, and blue armor and looped at her hip was a thin rope that glowed bright yellow—the Lasso of Truth. Something round and metal and very shield-like protruded from behind her back. She had the gauntlets. She even had the tiara, decorated with a golden star.

This was a moment Holtzmann had dreamed of (forty-seven times, to be exact). But it wasn’t a dream, because in her dreams she said a snappy one-liner or winked or both, and right now, she had just started crying again.

"Hi," said Wonder Woman, and she took a step closer. "May I touch you? What's wrong?" Holtzman nodded and Wonder Woman— _Wonder. Woman._ —placed her hand gently on her shoulder.

"M’sorry," gasped Holtzmann. She tried to process the slight weight of Wonder Woman’s palm, the gaze of her eyes, and the lilt of her voice, but even she could not handle that level of advanced multitasking.

"Come and sit with me in the jet," said Wonder Woman.

"Okay," squeaked Holtzmann.

Wonder Woman led her to the plane’s door, which was helpful, because even though the Opacityzer and the goggles were working, Holtzmann would likely have missed the entrance completely given her current emotional state. 

She stepped through the flickering rainbow door. Then she sat shakily in a flickering rainbow seat and stared at the flickering rainbow control panel while Wonder Woman leaned her shield against a flickering rainbow window like she did it every day. Probably because she did.

"My name is Diana," said Wonder Woman.

"I KNOW," said Holtzmann, overwhelmed, and great, now she had accidentally yelled at Wonder Woman.

Wonder Woman was silent then, and Holtzmann took the time to collect herself as best she could. Her goggles had gotten all foggy, what with the crying, so she pushed them up to rest on the top of her forehead. The plane disappeared, and now she was floating a few feet above the roof with a goddess-slash-superhero.

"I’m Holtzmann," she said finally. "Your Highness."

"Just Diana." Diana looked like she was trying to be delicate, but Holtzmann thought she had probably surpassed delicacy about five inches and a lot of muscle definition ago. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Holtzmann. Why are you on the roof?"

"I was avoiding a school party."

"You are a student?"

"Yeah, nuclear engineering."

"Congratulations," said Diana, and she looked so earnest about it that Holtzmann had to blink quickly to avoid starting the whole crying process all over again. Maybe one of Wonder Woman’s lesser-known superpowers was loosening people’s tear ducts. (Was a tear duct something you could loosen?)

"Thanks," she said. "Congratulations on, um, saving the world … all the time."

Diana smiled and shrugged. It was the most graceful shrug Holtzmann had ever seen. "Why were you avoiding the party?" she asked.

Holtzmann looked at her feet. "I don’t … fit there. They don’t think I’m a real scientist." She paused. "I build things to research ghosts." 

Holtzmann waited for Diana to laugh at her. But Diana didn’t laugh. She set her hand on Holtzmann’s knee—she was apparently very good at the whole comforting touch thing—and Holtzmann looked up at her. 

"You do not fit because you have the vision of a prophetess," said Diana. Holtzmann heartily disagreed with that statement, but she didn’t want to interrupt and risk making the hand go away. "You must make the world fit for you, not make yourself fit for it."

"Okay," said Holtzmann weakly, because how else did you respond to Wonder Woman inventing new proverbs right next to you?

"And spirits are very real," Diana said, almost like an afterthought.

"Really?"

"Of course."

Holtzmann grinned. "At first, I thought your plane was a ghost."

"No, I built it from a morphing crystal given to me by the Lansinarians, a race of aliens who live under Antartica. Its name is WonderDome."

Holtzmann stared. "Neat," she said.

"Yes," Diana agreed. "Now, unfortunately, I must go. I am expected elsewhere. But it was lovely speaking with you and being able to share Dome with someone. Truly."

She stepped back out of the plane and Holtzmann followed.

"Best of luck with your studies," said Diana.

"Uh-huh, thanks," stammered Holtzmann. "Good luck with saving the world."

Diana held out a hand to shake. "Goodbye."

"Bye, I love you," said Holtzmann to the greatest superhero in the universe.

And then froze in horror.

Holtzmann looked up from their still-clasped hands to Diana’s face. She had to say something to fix it, but she couldn’t think of a single thing. Diana was looking at her with a strange expression. It most likely meant something like, "You are the weirdest, most pathetic creature I have ever encountered and definitely not a prophetess and also I lied about ghosts being real."

Diana released her hand, which Holtzmann thought was understandable because she was very sweaty and Diana probably had legions of non-sweaty tall people of all genders waiting at this other place she was going, but then she moved her hand to the side of Holtzmann’s face instead. It was pretty helpful actually, because without the support Holtzmann felt like she would have passed out.

Wonder Woman was cupping her jaw.

"May I kiss you?" Diana asked. Holtzmann nodded quickly, eyes wide.

Diana leaned down so that they were face-to-face. She placed her other hand against Holtzmann’s other cheek. And then she moved forward a few inches.

Wonder Woman was kissing her.

Wonder Woman was _French_ kissing her.

Wonder Woman was a very good kisser.

Diana pulled away after exactly thirteen seconds. Holtzmann thought she probably ought to say thank you.

"Was that okay?" Diana asked.

"Yup," said Holtzmann breathlessly. "A-yup."

"Make the world fit for you, Holtzmann," Diana said again, and then she was gone. 

Holtzmann forgot to put her glasses back on to watch the rainbow jet take off.

* * *

2016

Holtzmann did a victory spin on her swivel chair. She had just successfully added built-in parachutes to the proton packs, and explained her process to her rapt audience of one (Patty).

"Do you want me to translate?" asked Abby, who had been half-listening from across the room with Erin.

"Nah," said Patty. "That’s the problem. I understood _all_ that. I’m spending way too much time around you people."

"Well, it’s brilliant," said Erin. "The ghosts figured out they can jump, or float I guess, out of tall buildings and we can’t, which is—"

"Damn annoying," Patty said.

"Exactly."

Holtzmann stood abruptly from her chair, sending it rolling back against the wall. "I am going to, ah, run some tests. Anyone want to join me on the roof? And maybe someone on the sidewalk … with a mattress?"

Erin glanced at her watch. "It’s already 7 o’clock. Wouldn’t you rather test something so dangerous in the daylight?"

"Science waits for no woman, Erin," Holtzmann said. "Aaaabby? Patty?"

"Sorry," said Patty. "I love your mad scientist inventions, but Patty has plans."

"We can all take it for a spin first thing tomorrow," Abby offered.

Holtzmann agreed and promised to wait for them. (Erin had drafted a multi-chapter safety manual just for her last month, and made her initial the bottom of every page to prove she read it. The fourth chapter was titled "Testing Things on Your Own" and subtitled "Do Not." But jumping off the roof by herself probably also fell under Chapter 1, "General Recklessness.")

"Bosses!" Kevin called from the stairwell. Holtzmann and the others looked over at him. "There is a person downstairs who says they’re looking for a prophet’s ass."

"There is no way that is what they said," Abby said. 

But Holtzmann had already launched herself toward the firefighter’s pole. She wavered a little on the landing, but it didn’t matter. 

Because there she was.

Diana stood by the front doors of the firehouse, studying the framed team photo on the wall. She was wearing a long trench coat instead of armor, and her hair was straightened and pulled into a ponytail instead of caught in the breeze on top of a roof. But it was her. She turned to meet Holtzmann’s eyes and smiled.

"Hello, Holtzmann, " Diana said. "I saw you on television. I came to say congratulations on saving the world."

Holtmzann beamed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
